


it is hard to build a body out of words

by northsiders36



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Baseball, Denial of Feelings, Dysfunctional Relationships, Homophobia, M/M, Misunderstandings, Soul Bond, Soul-Crushing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 22:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8120362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northsiders36/pseuds/northsiders36
Summary: Kris only wanted two things: baseball and a soulmate. 
It's just a shame his soulmate doesn't want a soulmate.





	

 

 

A person's word night was generally counted as one of the most important rites of passage to adulthood, even though it was supposed to be accompanied by an ache whispered about as being like growing pains but sharper, more intense, _worse._  
  
Kris couldn't believe he had been looking forward to his.  
  
His collar bones started itching during dinner, making his parents and brother exchange unsubtle winks throughout dessert, and his dad ruffled his hair twice as much as normal before bed. His mom left him some cool packs and a spare towel by his bed, and she put two Tylenol next to his water bottle and bid him good night with a teary, proud expression.  
  
The words started coming through at midnight and Kris let himself be excited, because he was getting his _words_ , there was gonna be someone for him, a perfect someone to complement his strengths and his weaknesses. But then the ache kept growing, and building, and about two hours into the process, Kris started to think something was wrong. Word pain wasn't supposed to last longer than an hour.  
  
By three am, Kris was in agony, fingers clenched into his sheets, and he kept telling himself to just hold on, because people didn't interrupt you during your word night, it just wasn't done, but by dawn, Kris couldn't hold on any longer.

Something was wrong and his whole body felt like it was on fire. He remembered starting to scream.  
  
He did not remember when he stopped.  
  
#  
  
At some point Kris must have passed out, because he woke up in a white room. It took Kris a moment to connect the dots. There was a tube inserted into the back of his hand, hooked up to a bag of fluid. Hospital. Right.  
  
Fear gripped his stomach, icy cold. If he was in hospital after that much pain then maybe there was something wrong. Maybe something that would stop him from playing baseball, he'd heard of that, promising talents cut down before they ever got old enough to try. Kris felt sick, because baseball was his number one dream.  
  
"Mom, he's awake!" Nick yelled, running out of the room, and coming back with their parents and a doctor in tow.  
  
"Just as I said," the doctor said, looking at a chart at the bottom of Kris's bed. Kris held his breath and watched him with wide, wary eyes. "Subacute hyperlexicodynia — perfectly normal in the circumstances. Patients who survive the night rarely have any further problems. Some rest and fluids and a course of antihistamines and he'll be right as rain in a week or so. You may need to see a dermatologist later in his puberty, with that amount of lexal addition to his dermis it can cause flakiness and dry skin, other irritations and in worst case scenario we may have to consider skin grafts for any sensitive areas that have trouble adapting, but nine times out of ten, patients with a higher number of words do just fine. I dare say they have a higher percentage happiness rate in life too, much easier than the poor souls who have _hello_ or _nice to meet you_."  
  
His mom and dad still looked worried though, everyone determinedly ignoring _patients who survive the night_ and how close Kris came to perhaps actually dying, just for the sake of his soul words coming in, and it took a while for the doctor to leave and his mom to say, "Kris, your words—" for it to start to sink in that something could be deeply wrong with his soul words, and Kris couldn't breathe.

"I have words, right, mom??" Kris pushed himself up as straight as he could get and he stared at his parents in rising horror. "I had the ache, I had them for so long, and then if I nearly _died_ for them I gotta— I _gotta_ have a soulmate, I don't wanna be a blank, I can't—" He looked down in panic, reaching for his hospital gown, pulling it down, ready to search his torso for the words that had to be there, that's where the pain started before it blossomed out, that's where his words had to be. Kris had read a thousand versions of word discovery and he knew sometimes it took a while to find them, and he was prepared for that, he was prepared to have to search, and—

Kris stared.

He tugged his hospital gown down further.

His mom made a noise in the back of her throat that was the same as when Nanna called with bad news, and Kris couldn't move, his eyes locked on what he could see on his chest.

You were lucky if your words were unique, people said, because that made it easier. Your words would be the first words your soulmate was ever going to say to you. That's how you'd know they were yours forever.

And Kris' soulmate…

…Kris' soulmate was apparently extremely, well…

…talkative?

Kris' torso was an explosion of words. He could easily see a hundred already in cramped, looping handwriting, sentences disappearing at the edge of the gown, and Kris knew now that if he lifted his gown further, there would be more words. He wondered dazedly how far down the words went.

He tried to focus on the words he could see.

"Don't bother to try and read them now," his mom said, and Kris choked, because it was too late, he'd already focused in on one curving line of the text and his head and heart were pounding over them.

_…I'm a patient kind of guy but that melodramatic kind of pitching, man, if he was on my team I wouldn't care if he had the best fastball in the league, holy shit,_ _I'd have fucking kicked his ass for…_

Kris didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

His soulmate had something to do with baseball. Of course, _of course._

But the words also explained why his mom looked close to tears.

His soulmate was a guy.

#

Nick helped him, because his mom could barely look at him, and even their dad felt a little weird about looking too closely at the words. Words were supposed to be private, but it was an unspoken rule that siblings were okay, because it helped to have someone on your side to help you find your soulmate.

Nick was also the one who was taking _Kris' soulmate is a dude_ in his stride.

"Is it gonna be a platonic bond, then, do you think?" Nick asked, meeting Kris' eyes in the reflection of the mirror in the private bathroom. His parents were busy filling in paperwork; the hospital wanted to keep him one more day in case there were echo pains, something that could happen with longer strings of soul words. The doctor wanted to make Kris a subject of a medical study, because Kris had more words than he'd ever seen, but their mom flat-out refused. They had hopes Kris was going to be a professional baseball player. It would be over in a heartbeat if someone linked some anonymous "medical subject" photos with Kris.

"Uh," Kris said, and thought about it. Your soulmate was supposed to be the right fit for you, but Kris couldn't picture much beyond a wide smile and kind eyes. Maybe a couple inches shorter than him, Kris thought. That would be nice. "I don't think so," he said, somewhat glum, because despite same-sex soulbonds being accepted, there still weren't any out and proud baseball players.

"Cool," Nick said, affably. "C'mon, shimmy, let's get you naked."

Kris rolled his eyes, but shucked off his gown and let it fall and—

"Holy shit," Nick breathed.

"Better hope mom and dad aren't loitering outside," Kris warned.

"Hey, I was just reading two of your words," Nick said, and Kris felt the ghost of a finger touch somewhere between his shoulder blades. Touching words was also an unspoken etiquette _no-no,_ but Nick must have managed to find a space of skin untouched by words, because Kris didn't feel awkward about it. "Man, apart from the eyesore of it, I'm kind of jealous."

"Your words are pretty unique," Kris murmured. "Definitely gonna happen in a lab somewhere."

"Hmm," Nick said, unconvinced but smiling a little, pleased by the sound of it. "There's no way you're _not_ gonna instantly know your dude, though. Be glad it doesn't just say _hi._ "

"Then I might be able to go out in public not wearing every item of clothing I own," Kris said, and lifted his eyes to look at the full spread of words. He had to turn around to fully see them, and Nick detached the smaller mirror from the wall in order to hold it up for Kris to better see some of the patches of it, but in terms of body cover, it was all over the place. The bulk of the words were over his chest, but one sentence looped around his upper left arm, and four sentences ran down his back, scraping the top of his butt cheeks. Words ran down his right leg, spiralling down his thigh and calf, finishing with a spiral across the arch of his right foot, finishing words that made Kris frown.

_Dude, I thought you were someone else. I'm so sorry. I, uh. Oh, hey dear. Sorry. Bye. I gotta go. Maybe I'll see you around though, huh?_

"I hope your soulmate has something ridiculous on his skin," Nick declared, helping Kris get dressed again after taking a scratchy transcription of the words for him; they both agreed photographs would probably not be a good idea, but a notebook could be explained away as a homework assignment. "Like _sure_ or _yeah_. Serves them right for being a motor mouth."

"I'm sure he's not a motor mouth," Kris defended, feeling protective of his unknown soulmate already. "Probably just nervous. Being in proximity of your soulmate pre-vocalization can make you feel butterflies in your stomach."

"Aww, defending him already," Nick said, and ruffled at Kris' hair. Kris ducked away, and then frowned contemplatively.

"I hope he has something stupid and I hope it's on his ass," Kris said, after a moment.

Nick grinned. "That's my bro, yo."

"Well, he kind of deserves it," Kris said, frowning at the sheer number of words still visible even though he was dressed again, although the term applied loosely when it came to a gaping hospital gown. Honestly. It was ridiculous. His soulmate was ridiculous. Kris couldn't help but grin again. He had a soulmate. That was worth _ridiculous_.

#  
  
Bryce and Joey both stopped by to see him, bringing a bunch of grapes that they both ate before Kris could get any and a baseball magazine that looked a little old. Kris spent the whole time wanting to tell them about his words, about his soulmate working within Chicago somewhere, but his mom's worry made him hesitate, kept him quiet.

_They won't understand, kiddo,_ she said, before leaving to go get him some clothes from home, with long enough sleeves to cover up the words on his arm. As Kris had guests incoming, the nurses obliged his mom's worries and wrapped his upper arm and leg in soft crepe bandages. __  
  
Bryce had his words already, and had been wearing a patch with pride. It was about the same size as a six inch ruler. He eyeballed Kris' bandages sceptically, like Kris was trying to out-do him.

"Relax," Kris found himself lying, "my words are like, two inches long. You're still the winner." Kris didn't know why he lied, or why his whole body felt hot when his dad gave him an approving nod. Nick just looked sad for a moment before hiding his face in his SAT revision notebook.

When Bryce and Joey trundled off, Kris hid his face in his pillow and cried. He felt his dad stroking his hair and cried harder.

"This isn't what I wanted for you, sunshine," his dad said, "but you're amazing, and you're going to continue to be amazing. The day I met my soulmate brought me the brightest joys in my life: both your mom, and my two wonderful boys. You'll be that happy, Kris. I know it. It's just going to be harder for you than others, but that's no bad thing."

"It's not?" Kris said, muffled into the linen.

"Of course not," his dad soothed. "God only gives you obstacles when he knows you have the ability to climb over them."

Kris nodded and hoped beyond hope that his father was right about that.

 

 

#

**_8 YEARS LATER_ **

**_#_ **

 

When the Cubs' management team offered Kris and his family a brief tour of Wrigley Field and the Cubs' clubhouse the day after signing, Kris leapt on the offer, even though they all knew he was headed the day after straight for the Cubs' training facility in Mesa and then _more_ than likely on towards the Boise Hawks. It was important for him to visualize his end goals, everyone agreed, and Kris felt like he must have swallowed a barrel full of hummingbirds he was so excited. Even Nick was jealous, constantly leaning over Kris to stare out the plane window as they headed for O'Hare, and then hanging off Kris' shoulder the whole time, sighing about how it had been a bad idea, exchanging baseball for his academic career.

"The whole clubhouse is going to be redone," Deer said as they walked towards it. Deer was the assistant hitting coach and he and Kris' dad had been exchanging shoptalk all day. "There's some areas I can't take all of you, but I can take Kris."

"Such a bad idea," Nick whispered to Kris, loud enough for their mom to give him the stink-eye. "I could have been playing baseball and instead I'm cramming chemical compounds."

"You're going to save lives and I'm going to hit balls with a chunk of wood while wearing really tight pants in front of people," Kris said, in a much lower tone, because he didn't want to be in Deer's bad books from the start.

"This way, Kris," Deer said, after settling his parents and Nick with some refreshments in part of the Clubhouse it was okay for the public to be. Deer was amazing, and Kris instantly picked at his brain, because Deer's strikeout record had only been smashed five years ago, and in Kris' opinion being second best was pretty good (thankfully, or being passed over by the Astros would have been a hell of an ego dampener.) Deer answered happily, flattered by the questions and by Kris' genuine interest.

"Shoot," Deer said. "I wanted to show you the video room but I left my key back in the office." He side-eyed Kris slyly, taking in Kris' wide-eyed expression as he looked around the Cubs' locker room in easy awe. "How about you hang around here, soak up some of the atmosphere. You'll be back soon enough, I'd guess, but it's good to know what you're aiming for, right?"

"Yeah," Kris said, unable to stop smiling. The atmosphere of the locker room was already sinking into his skin, making him feel light-headed. He wanted to be here. He wanted to be here _so_ badly. "I know what you mean."

Deer shot him a grin and jogged off at a friendly pace, and Kris turned to take in the atmosphere of the locker room as a whole. He didn't feel ready yet to really belong, but there was an electric undercurrent to the room and the wooden bays and the long benches. He didn't yet belong, but he could. He would. _Soon,_ Kris thought, and it was like the whole room was whispering it to him. _Soon._

He assumed when the door opened behind him that it was Deer returning, and Kris didn't turn back, because he didn't want this calm moment of positivity to stop. So when an arm wrapped itself around his shoulder, Kris startled, nearly jerking forward to the ground; he would have fallen if a large hand hadn't wrapped its way fully around his upper arm.

"Dude," the guy who was _obviously_ not Deer breathed, "Sorry was the bomb last night, did you see?" and Kris' heart just about pounded out of his chest. What. _What._ He knew what words were coming next, and he had to fight not to mouth along with them, because he knew them better than he even knew the pledge of allegiance.

"Man," Kris' soulmate sighed, a comforting weight along Kris' back, "I nearly wet myself just seeing it from the dugout, Dave had me watching the video and like, _crazy_ accurate, man I wanna bat like that when I grow up. I mean, clearly I was having a bit of a rocky start but man, _man._ They couldn't have switched Lynn too soon; I swear, I'm a patient kind of guy but that melodramatic kind of pitching, man, if he was on my team I wouldn't care if he had the best fastball in the league, holy shit, I'd have fucking kicked his ass for waiting so long between pitches. D'you think the new guys are gonna pitch like that? I don't think Boss would let them get away with it, for sure, but you never know, right? My mom, she thinks we're on the up and we're gonna make it this year, but she says that every year and I feel it but I'm not one hundred percent feeling it, you know what I mean? There's like, an undercurrent of electricity missing, one I— I kind of feel it today, though, yeah, I feel like my mom is right, that we're gonna kick some ass this year, bring home the trophy, not bring baseball back to Chicago 'cause it never left, haha in your face hockey, but bring home the biggest W of them all, yeah, I feel it."

Kris kind of wanted to cry, because his soulmate's voice was beautiful, and the words were about to come to an end, but Kris couldn't cry, because he had to say something back to his soulmate, he was going to turn to him and see him for the first time and say whatever words were on his soulmate's skin and see the dawning awareness in his soulmate's eyes of how much better life was going to be now they had found each other.

"Anyway, we should probably catch some dinner tonight after the game, heaven knows the nutritionist is after my fucking ass, but I'm _Italian_ American, emphasis on the Italian, I can't say no when spaghetti's on the line, you dig me? And —"

Kris also had to fight to keep his eyes open, because his soulmate slowly lifted his arm a little to move around, presumably to get an expression as a reaction to the invitation to dinner, and Kris had to fight to _breathe,_ because he got his first glance of his soulmate and _oh._ Oh.

Anthony Rizzo.

_Anthony Rizzo._

Kris had spent so long telling himself that it was probably just someone who worked in baseball. He started to get his hopes up since the draft that it was someone who worked for the Cubs when he realized _Dave_ could be McKay, Sorry could be Soriano and Boss could be a friendly nickname for Bosio; for the other name on his skin, _Lynn,_ Lance Lynn was the only pitcher with the name Lynn that Kris could find on the internet, so at least Kris had been able to rule out finding his soulmate in St. Louis. Yeah, he'd got his hopes up that his soul mate might be in Chicago, but he'd thought it would be someone on the fringes. Maybe a tech analyst who helped them look at game tapes. An admin guy. A vending machine technician who was _really_ into the game. Even, heaven forbid, one of the coaches.

One of the actual players, though? Kris hadn't let himself think about it.

Rizzo was as handsome as his voice, his eyes as kind as Kris had always imagined belonged to his soulmate. But Rizzo was blinking at Kris like he was something strange and unusual, and Kris flinched backwards.

And Rizzo started saying the final run of words. "Dude, I thought you were someone else. I'm so sorry," he said.

Kris stared. He couldn't say anything. That was how it worked. You couldn't say your words back until your soulmate had finished saying theirs. He knew his soulmate — _Anthony Rizzo!_ — had some words to go.

"I, uh," Rizzo continued, and then his gaze moved sharply to the door. "Oh, hey Deer," he greeted, and Kris felt acutely dumb, because that part of his words was a little hard to decipher, the handwriting a messy scrawl, and he'd always assumed it was _dear_ , like someone his soulmate was close with, and not _Deer,_ like the person. Rizzo turned to Kris with an apologetic expression and patted him on the shoulder. "Sorry. Bye. I gotta go. Maybe I'll see you around though, huh?"

"C'mon, scram, get out, you're frightening the rookie," Deer said, moving into the room and chasing Rizzo out. "Feldman's out back if he was the one you were looking for."

"Yeah," Rizzo said. "All ridiculously tall people look the same to me."

"Says the man who's, what, one ninety-one?" Deer said, rolling his eyes. "Make like a tree before I tell Dave you're slacking."

"Roger that," Rizzo said, and hurried out the room.

Kris stared in horror at the door his soulmate escaped through.

_Wait,_ he kind of wanted to yell. _Wait. Rizzo. It's me. Kris. Your soulmate._

No words come out, though. Because it was too late.

Kris' soulmate was gone, and Kris hadn't been able to say a single word.

#

If Nick was in the same room, he'd be staring at Kris, probably with the same slack jawed expression when Kris wasn't drafted the first time around. But Kris hadn't been able to bring himself to share the trauma with his brother immediately after the event, so he was having to do it now, over the phone.

Kris had been worried his hefty signing bonus would damage his relationship with his brother, but Nick took it in his stride, not getting jealous or demanding money. He laughed that Kris planned to splurge on an Audi — "much wow, such spending" was the text Nick sent him when Kris emailed him the link of the car he wanted — and helped Kris start the process to order the batting cage so their dad could do what he did more professionally. Nick wouldn't let Kris pay off his student loans, which was _ridiculous_ , but Nick argued that Kris could crash and burn and might need the money for the rest of his life if baseball somehow imploded on him. If Kris was still making good bank in a few years and Nick was struggling to find a pharmacy position, _maybe_ Nick would take a loan. If Kris was good. Kris sighed about this deal long and often. Why were brothers so boneheaded all the damn time?

"Anthony Rizzo," Nick said, for the fifteenth time. There was a creak and then a rhythmic percussive sound.

"Are you Googling him?" Kris asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. His entire body ached and he'd been in Mesa for barely 24 hours. Training camp was killing him in all the best ways. The only reason he was spared being mocked by all the other rookies for not going out was that they were all in their rooms, crying in agony. It was mutual group suffering and they all _loved_ it.

"Naturally," Nick said. "Huh."

Kris tried to fold his arms behind his head but even those hurt. He grimaced. "Huh?"

"He's kind of adorable, in a _could kill you to death with his bare hands_ way," Nick offered. "Looks like he comes from a big family."

"Italian American family," Kris said, immediately.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just glad I know the reason why you went through the phase in high school of relentlessly cooking pasta. And mom _not_ knowing the reason why was amusing as hell."

"Heh," Kris said, because he was always quite amused by that too.

"I also looked up to see whether anyone's never managed to say anything to their soulmate before," Nick said. "Generally there's three conclusions."

Kris wasn't sure he wanted to know. His head kind of hurt. "Yeah?" he said, because he was always going to be the type of person to yank a band-aid off quickly.

"One, he's a blank and doesn't have any soulwords," Nick said, and he sounded sad. "Two, you're just in a state known as an interlude state, and your next words to him will be his soulwords, there's just a time delay inbetween. It's not very common, but then neither is having an entire novel printed on your skin."

"Haha," Kris said, unamused. "And the third?"

"Well, that someone _else_ is going to say your soulwords," Nick said. "But the odds of that with your combination of words are unlikely."

"So either… my soulbond is dysfunctional or delayed," Kris said. He felt like he was waiting for the draft again. Dizzy. Uncertain. And kind of lonely, even with Nick's voice thick in his ear, thank goodness for cellphones. "Awesome."

"You're gonna be fine," Nick said. "It's you. You're a Bryant. That's what we do. Get through things and fucking demolish them."

"Thanks," Kris said. "I'd better jet, though. Think my muscles may decide they've had enough and try and kill me in my sleep if I stay awake much longer."

"Sure," Nick said. "I've got revision to do anyway. Call me when you have ten minutes?"

"Of course," Kris said.  

They exchange good nights and Kris hangs up, his body and his heart aching in unison. His soulbond was just delayed, that's what had to be happening. All Kris had to do was play his best and his path would naturally cross Anthony Rizzo's again. Kris could wait.

#

It was easy for a couple of years to suppress the desire to chase after Rizzo or to look him up online. Kris wanted to be the best baseball player for his soulmate. They were destined to end up on the same team if Kris played his best, so there wasn't any need to rush things. Rizzo deserved a wonderful partner on the field as well as in life, and knowing Rizzo was out there and just as focused on his own baseball was almost calming.

Spring training with the Cubs. His chance was nearly here. Kris let the excitement wash over him for a couple of days, enough that he let the whispers fly right over his head, that the Cubs would send him back down to the farm no matter how well he played, because of the stupid free agency rules. Kris didn't care. He was going to play with the Cubs and he was going to be able to show them what he was capable of, and he was going to—

Shit.

Rizzo.

He was going to meet his soulmate.

And with that much proximity, it didn't matter if the rumors were true and Kris was sent back to the farm afterwards, because he would not be able to avoid meeting Anthony Rizzo. The chance of Kris being able to say nothing around him for the whole of Spring Training was slim to none.

Kris was going to say his soulmate's soul words, the words that will have been on Rizzo's skin for at least as long as Kris had has his words, and Kris was going to finally meet his soul mate.

Kris' vow not to Google Rizzo was untenable, because he was overwhelmed by a rush of panic and anxiety and nerves, but loading up his laptop and typing in _Anthony Rizzo_ with trembling fingers was not the best decision he had ever made.

There was a lot of information about Anthony Rizzo online and Kris found himself grinning dumbly at the screen as he looked at Google Image search. Looking at Rizzo's smiling face just made Kris feel warm and safe. He was going to be fine. Meeting his soulmate was going to be amazing. Kris teared up at an article describing Rizzo's struggle with cancer, beating it, and his work raising money for families dealing with it, because his soulmate was _perfect._

There were videos too, hundreds of them, and Kris thought just one couldn't hurt. He'd been jerking off at the memory of Rizzo's voice in his ear for _years_ now, so just one video couldn't be too bad.

It was bad.

It was beyond bad.

"Soulmates are _bullshit,_ " a slightly younger Rizzo said onscreen. The date said it was near the beginning of his Cubs signing. "My parents weren't soulmates and they love each other more deeply than anyone I've ever met. The idea of some divine force, of fate or— weird-ass biology— letting dictate who we fall in love with? _Bullshit._ I hate the whole concept of soulmates and you won't catch me looking for mine, or accepting mine with open arms, if they even _exist._ "

"But you have words," the reporter just off-camera said, sounding horrified.

"Sure," Rizzo on-screen said, shrugging casually. "But I'm not going to let a quirk of _genetics_ dictate my future for me. Cancer, soulwords, nothing. You make your own destiny. You choose your own fate. Soulmates are an old-world concept. This is a new age. We can talk to anyone on the planet, go anywhere, we don't need _words_ telling us who to love."

Kris stared in mounting horror, and couldn't help himself from clicking the YouTube spiral that followed. It wasn't a one-off thing. Nearly every other video had Rizzo saying something apathetic or dismissive about soulmates.

Kris had a soulmate. Kris had a perfect soulmate.

But his soulmate didn't want a soulmate.

Kris' soulmate didn't want _him._

He called Nick later, because the tears wouldn't stop, but he had to hang up because he was crying too much. When his hands stopped trembling enough, he forwarded Nick the link to the first video with the words DID YOU KNOW??

Nick sent back a single sad face as a response.

Kris cried harder. Nick had seen it and stayed silent in order to protect him, because he was Kris' big brother and that's what big brothers did, but, oh. It hurt. It hurt so _much._ When his hands stopped trembling entirely, Kris called Nick again.

"What are you going to do?" Nick asked, in a calm and low voice.

Kris locked onto his brother's voice like it was an anchor. "I'm going to play baseball," Kris said. "I'm going to play my heart out."

"About Ri— your soulmate," Nick said.

"Well. There's every chance it's a dysfunctional bond anyway," Kris said, even though they were both still pretty sure Kris must be in an interlude state with Rizzo; they were becoming more commonly known about thanks to the internet. "But it doesn't matter. Him not wanting me _makes_ it a dysfunctional bond. So I'm going to play baseball, play my heart out, and in a couple of years, do it the old fashioned way. I'm a good person. Plenty of good people lose their soulmates to accidents or war. There'll be someone out there for love who'll actually _want_ to love me back."

"Maybe Rizzo does," Nick said. "Get to know him. _See_."

"I don't know if I can," Kris said.

"You won't know if you don't try," Nick said, infuriatingly reasonable.

Kris sighed. "I guess so."

#

Kris was early to Mesa for the training, both because it was good etiquette for rookies and because he wanted some time to prepare before he had to speak to Rizzo. There was a high chance, if their soulbond was just delayed and not dysfunctional, that he would speak Rizzo's soul words on the first official day of training. Kris had never actually hoped for a dysfunctional soulbond before, but he was wishing for it with a passion now.

It happened in the locker room, Ross taking him briefly under wing and putting up with Kris' thousand probing questions about his experience in the majors. Kris wanted to be a sponge and soak up all the knowledge he could, because baseball was going to be the only thing in his life for a very long time.

Ross was briefly distracted at one point, and Szczur started introducing him to players.

"And this is Anthony Rizzo," Szczur said.

Kris could hardly breathe as Rizzo turned around, those dark eyes turning towards him, focusing on him, and Rizzo's face lit up with brief recognition; thanks to the media's increased interest in him Kris was more recognizable now than he had been when they first met, two years ago. Kris' heart was pounding. This was it. These were going to be Rizzo's soulwords that Kris was speaking out loud. Kris' palms felt clammy. Rizzo didn't want Kris, so Kris would pretend he didn't want Rizzo. There was every chance that Rizzo might notice something, so Kris had to be calm and not react. It helped that the only urge coursing through his brain was to say something bland, polite. Unremarkable.

"Hi," Kris said, holding out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

The locker room exploded in a burst of sound, and Kris fought to stay looking calm and cool; obviously, Rizzo's words were _Hi, nice to meet you,_ and the Cubs on a whole must know it for this kind of reaction to occur.

Rizzo did react, but only because Kris was looking for it; his pupils widened in aware shock, and then Rizzo tilted his head to the right and said, calmly, "I like chicken nuggets more than is socially acceptable."

Kris squinted. _What?_ He forced himself to remain calm and unmoved, and said, "Good for you buddy." Chicken nuggets? They weren't his soulwords, but if Kris hadn't been mistaken for someone else two years ago, they could have been, so Kris was a tiny bit pissed off at how ridiculous they were, which helped suppress the urge to shove Rizzo against the nearest wall and kiss him until they were both sobbing.

"Ah, well, worth a try," Rizzo said, and his solemn face transformed instantly into a blinding grin, and instead of grabbing Kris' hand to shake it, he moved in for a hearty hug which nearly knocked Kris off his feet, even though Kris easily had two inches on him. "Welcome to Spring Training, bud. Hope it's a long stay."

It wasn't a long stay, even though Kris hit his heart out, and it felt literally like he was doing so, Rizzo always nearby, close enough that Kris could _feel_ him. They were definitely soulmates and Kris was devastated about it.

There were two things in life he had always wanted. His soulmate and baseball.

Maybe he couldn't have his soulmate, but he sure as _hell_ was going to have baseball. No one was going to take that from him.

Being sent back down to the farm felt like a kick in the teeth. He'd led _all_ the players in home runs, not just the current Cubs on the roster. His stats were _beautiful._ But the club adhered to the rules and the MLB board were right, it was a sad day for baseball indeed. It was probably for the best really, though, because if Kris had his free agency, he'd be so tempted right now to take his baseball skills and run, as far away from Anthony Rizzo as he could get. Every glimpse at Rizzo's handsome, happy face was like every single time someone had told him he wasn't good enough.

He wasn't good enough for his soulmate. And if Kris cried through the rest of his stay with the Iowa Cubs, his three home runs and above-300 batting average was strong enough to hide that. By the time April rolled around, and Kris got the call to go up to the majors — most likely for good this time — he'd pushed the resentment aside. The Cubs were a great fit for his skills. The team was amazing. His soulmate was amazing, even if Kris couldn't give in to the ache to find Rizzo and kiss him that kept Kris awake most nights. Plenty of people lived without their soulmates. They found someone else to love and had happy lives. Sure the person might not be your soulmate, but you could still find someone to love, someone to love you back. And until then, Kris had baseball.

#

Despite his unease at being around Rizzo, the Clubhouse instantly felt like home.

It wasn't unheard of any more for people to have a lot of words on them, not since a couple of high profile celebrities showed off their words on the red carpet. It was still not a common phenomenon, but it was not unheard of anymore, so Kris didn't feel bad about wearing his bodysuit around the locker room. It had been stitched carefully with cut-outs in order to keep as much air flowing to his body without giving away his words. Your words were supposed to be private, and Kris wanted to keep his locked away for good.

As he changed for his first game, exposing his black bodysuit in a way he'd avoided in the minors and during Spring Training, several of his teammates stared.

"Damn, KB," Heyward whistled. "Your girl's a motormouth, huh?"

"Guess so," Kris said, shrugging.

Rizzo had the locker right next to him, which was damaging Kris' calm a little, and he hoped that didn't extend to the game. At his other side, Szczur nudged at him.

"You met Rizzo already, right?" Szczur asked.

"Sure," Kris said, easily, half-turning to nod amicably at Rizzo, ignoring the way his palms went instantly sweaty.

Ross appeared from behind Szczur, throwing both arms about Szczur's shoulder and ruffling at his hair.

"Aw, remember, Kris was a _hi it's nice to meet you,_ " Ross explained, winking in Rizzo's direction as Rizzo rolled his eyes to the ceiling. There were muted snickers around the locker room.

"Must be difficult having bland soulwords," Kris forced himself to say, trying to sound polite and neutral.

"This idiot says random shit in response," Arrieta said, leaning over to grab Rizzo in a headlock, which was resolved after a few seconds of random scuffling, Rizzo yanking at his shirt and giving Arrieta the stink-eye. Arrieta just shrugged. His face didn't move much. That was probably why he was so terrifying on the field. Kris was glad they were on the same team.

"Eh, it's just for fun," Rizzo said. "Soulmates are a bullshit concept, might as well give my soulmate something interesting on their skin if they grow up thinking they're gonna be lumbered to an idiot like me."

_You're not an idiot, you're amazing,_ Kris' inner thoughts immediately piped up. _You spend all your free time raising money for struggling families, you play like a dream, and—_

He told his inner voice to shut up. It was already hurting enough to be this close to Rizzo and hear him spout the _soulmates are bullshit_ crap in person for Kris to also have to think about what an amazing person it was that didn't want him.

"I married my soulmate. So if you say _anything_ involving my wife in the same breath as bullshit ever again, I'm gonna staple your balls to the wall, and I ain't talking about the ones you occasionally deign to hit out on the field," Ross said, jabbing a finger at Rizzo, who ducked out of the way.

"Hyla's an exception, I'm sure," Rizzo said, beaming widely at Ross, who seemed to melt under Rizzo's winning smile.

Rizzo, Kris thought darkly, probably got away with a _ton_ of shit because of that smile.

#

Rizzo's presence did damage his calm for a few games, enough that Maddon felt he had to joke to the press about only wanting him for his glove, which reinvigorated Kris, because he wanted to be known for his batting skills. His stats slowly rose until no one could ignore that he had earned his place on the Cubs.

Alongside that, more surprisingly for Kris, he slowly started to become friends with Rizzo.

It was not intentional. If anything, Kris had done the best he could for it _not_ to happen, but they kept ending up sitting next to each other, Rizzo doling out those stupidly addictive hugs in the dugout, or sliding in close to whisper witty commentary about the ongoing games, and Kris found himself choosing Rizzo's company more and more. It was nice. Sometimes soulmates could be platonic, and maybe that's what their soulbond was meant to be. Kris still wanted to kiss him pretty much every second of the day, but he was starting to realize that's what most people felt when around Rizzo, so who could really blame him for feeling the same?

It didn't take long for Kris' bodysuit to leak out to the press, for people to piece it together from glimpses of his uniform riding up. When he was in the minor leagues no one cared, but now he was on the Cubs roster, people cared a lot. They were always watching him.

Unfortunately, this made a lot of people feel like when the Cubs were out and about celebrating their wins, that coming over and _rambling_ at him might make all their dreams come suddenly true. Kris couldn't go to one bar without having someone come over and start talking nonstop in an effort to score him as their soulmate.

It was overwhelming, and made Kris almost resent his vow never to drink until he won a World Series.

Almost.

The thing that came the closest to nearly tipping him over the edge?

Rizzo, of course. It had been over a year of playing together, of them becoming friends despite Kris' best intent, and it was at that silly point in the season where all the roadies started blending together. That even people who loved baseball the most couldn't remember whether they were coming or going. It was a good thing each field had a unique look and feel, because otherwise, Kris would have _no_ idea where he was.

July was a month of complete whiplash, combining a ten game losing streak with having the best stats in baseball, so winning their first homestand against the Reds felt like Kris was finally allowed to breathe after an eternity of holding his breath. The All-Star weekend was amazing, even if they had to play bearing a _fifteen_ game loss out of their last twenty-one games, there was still a massive buzz going. This year. _This year._ It felt like everyone was finally saying the Cubs were gonna do it. _Finally._

Then Rizzo homered twice against the Mets, bringing him one home run behind Kris' league lead, and the Cubs en masse felt unstoppable, brimming with success and happiness, and that was probably why it happened — too much happiness, too much excitement, because winning in baseball was euphoric. It was a definite high. And that had to be a main reason behind why, when Kris found himself alone in a hallway with Rizzo, that _it_ happened.

Namely, Rizzo pressing up into him, pushing him into the nearest wall, and kissing him.

Kris was only human, and it was only everything he'd wanted for years, so of course he gave in. His heart was soaring, and it was implausible, but his brain filled in the blanks: Rizzo remembered meeting Kris in 2013, put that fact together with Kris' bodysuit, realized they were soulmates, and Kris was so great that Rizzo wanted to throw away a lifetime of soulmate disgust for their bond.

If the Hallelujah Chorus was being sung in perfect harmony by the Cubs' home crowd, Kris wouldn't have heard it. Rizzo's mouth on his was the best thing he'd ever felt. Kris' entire body was singing like a hundred homers all at once.

"Look," Rizzo said, pulling his mouth away from Kris' to lay a trail of kisses along the stubble of Kris' left cheek, "you haven't you haven't found your soulmate yet, and neither have I, doesn't mean we can't have some fun together while we wait, yeah?"

Rizzo kissed him again before Kris could answer, and Kris kissed back for a moment, desperate, _wanting,_ his whole body alight with joy. But then Rizzo's words sank in and everything turned heavy and cold.

Kris shoved at Rizzo, desperation tinged with raw strength, and he glared at Rizzo, letting his sheer disappointment fuel his actions, because if he listened to his body he'd be kissing Rizzo again, and that… that wasn't survivable. "Dude, what the fuck," Kris hissed.

"You kissed back," Rizzo said, glaring and folding his arms. "Don't go into some weird gay freak-out on me, dude. You can't deny we have amazing chemistry, on the field and off it."

"I—" Kris clenched his hands into fists. "Believe what you want, man. I can't do that."

"What?" Rizzo rolled his eyes. "You waiting for your soulmate to fucking carry you off into the sunset? The whole concept is bullshit, Bryant. _Bullshit._ "

Kris flinched. He was never _Bryant_ to Rizzo. Always Kris, or KB, or _hey, you_ in a soft, sleep-rich baritone rumble.

"Whatever," Rizzo said. "Your loss." His threw up his hands. "This never fucking happened, okay?"

Kris glared. "Fine by me," he snapped.

Rizzo threw him a dark, almost angry look, and stormed off, slamming the door hard. Kris slumped against the wall and held back tears.

#

Their friendship hit a rocky patch for a week or so, especially with the media trying to pitch a _Bryant vs. Rizzo_ story over their battle for MVP, but Kris thought they'd managed to get everything on an even keel by the time they started to hit a winning streak.

It was a sad but true fact — when things went well in one's professional life, one's personal life tended to take a nosedive into shit creek.

Kris was innocently getting changed in the locker room when Rizzo entered. That wasn't anything new — Kris liked to be early, Rizzo liked to be precisely on time. Rizzo was whistling, though, which was not entirely normal, if not unheard of.

Instead of coming to stand by Kris, Rizzo pulled up by Ross' locker and fist-bumped him.

"Hey, Rossy," Rizzo said. "It's a good day, don't you think it's a good day?" And before Ross could open his mouth and say something, Rizzo just continued talking. "I think it's a wonderful day. You'll never guess who I ran into this morning?"

"No, please, tell me, I'm dying to hear," Ross grouched, never amused by anyone interrupting his pre-game prep.

"An amazing guy who used to work with us, Dale's pal from his time with the Brewers," Rizzo said. Kris looked over. Rizzo was beaming out at the locker room with the kind of inclusive, beaming expression he used when he was telling a story for everyone's sake. "You ever cross paths with Rob Deer, Rossy?"

Kris froze, mid-reach for his shirt. He swallowed and resisted the urge to glance at Rizzo again, because it could give too much away. It was just a coincidence that the only time Kris had met Rob Deer was the day he met Rizzo for the first time and heard his soulwords spoken aloud.

"Sure," Ross said, shrugging. "Run across him once or twice. Nice fella."

"Hell of a guy," Rizzo said. "Managed to jog my memory a little, too."

Kris froze again. Shit. _Shit._ He risked a side glance this time to try and gauge where Rizzo was going with this, and—

Shit, Rizzo was looking directly at him, a smirk on his face.

Kris swallowed and his eyes felt like they were burning and he couldn't look away. Apparently, neither could Rizzo.

"Yeah," Rizzo said, his voice soft but carrying loud enough for everyone to hear, "turns out I'd met one of my _hi, nice to meet you_ people before. A couple of years before they ever said a word to me. Funny story, I'd mistaken them for someone else, rambled for a good three minutes before Deer made me realize I wasn't talking to the person I thought I was talking to. I mean, imagine my surprise when I remember just exactly who it was taking a tour of the Clubhouse that day."

Rizzo stepped forwards, and the team members present seemed to realize en masse who Rizzo was referring to, and Kris swallowed, uncomfortable at the sudden influx of attention.

"Oh my gosh," Cahill said, pointing between them, "are you _serious_? Bryzzo for real, huh?"

"I mean, I can understand anyone being overwhelmed," Rizzo said. "I was a— jeez, I didn't shut up, or say anything. But you can't tell me those aren't my words, dude."

"I can," Kris said. His voice sounded quiet and pathetic, even to his own ears. "I can tell you they're not your words. Because they're not."

Rizzo stepped closer, something like fire in his kind eyes. "Bullshit."

"I mean, yeah, it's a funny crazy happenstance, you word vomiting me, me echoing your words, but—" Kris steeled himself and squared his shoulders. "I think I'd know if I had your words, Rizzo. I'm sorry, but I'm not your soulmate."

It wasn't even a lie, because Kris' real soulmate would want him, in all permutations of meaning. Rizzo didn't want a soulmate, ergo, he couldn't be Kris' _true_ soulmate. It was a dysfunction, as truly real as any other variety of soulmate dysfunction.

"Then prove it," Rizzo said, stepping even closer, his eyes scraping over Kris' face. "Show me your words. Just a few of them."

"No," Kris said. "And screw you for asking."

"C'mon," Ross said in the background, gentle, "we've all seen each other's words, it's not a big deal. Just show him you're not so he can move on."

"I don't have to fucking do any such thing," Kris said. He felt trapped, winded, breathless.

"You can't make him show you," Szczur said in the background, faint but strong. "Especially if they're not yours."

"Bullshit that they're not," Rizzo muttered.

"What the fuck do you even care?" Kris found his air, at least enough of it to haul a breath in and step forward, glaring at Rizzo with anger. "You fucking don't even _believe_ in soulmates, and now you're thrilled about the idea I might be your soulmate? I'm not, for the record. But that's a shitty thing to do, to wish me a soulmate who _doesn't want a fucking soulmate._ Thanks. Thanks a lot."

He turned his back and grabbed for the rest of the clothes, storming out and heading for the bathroom and changing in there instead.

#

He avoided Rizzo then, actively, stubbornly, deliberately. Kris was polite in front of camera and maintained the story that everything was okay and amicable behind the scenes, but it wasn't. The tension didn't bleed into their games, at least, Kris was trying hard for it not to, and it seemed Rizzo was unaffected too, which just made Kris feel justified in his anger. Even Rizzo realizing his soulmate was under his nose hadn't changed anything for him, because soulmates didn't mean anything to him.

On the occasions when Kris couldn't avoid Rizzo, Rizzo didn't avoid the subject.

"My soulmate's been playing so well, don't you think?" Rizzo said loudly after Kris drove in his seventieth run, matching the achievement of his first professional season.

Kris glared at him. He should definitely think about moving his locker from next to Rizzo's, but a morbid part of Kris liked the way their names and numbers looked next to each other.

Rizzo left Kris a heart-shaped cookie one morning in his locker.

Kris crushed it into pieces and left the crumbs in Rizzo's cleats.

"C'mon, sweetheart, just admit you love me the most," Rizzo said another day, and —

It was too much.

It was just too much.

Kris sank to the floor, put his face in his hands, and couldn't move. There was a game in two hours. They would probably be screwed without him, really. He still couldn't move.

"Shit," Rizzo breathed.

"I think you broke him," Baez offered, sounding appalled.

"What do you fucking expect," Rossy said, presumably elbowing both of them aside from their matching yelps. Kris felt a body sink down next to him, and a strong paternal arm slide around his shoulders. "Boy's got an issue when it comes to soulmates a mile wide, and here you are, needling him day in day out."

Kris shook a little under the kindness, and he was able to mutter, "Dysfunction" loud enough for Ross to hear. When Kris lifted his head, red-eyed and feeling wretched, Ross was looking at him with an almost unbearable level of kindness.

"My cousin had a soulmate dysfunction," Ross said, his voice thick with kindness. "You're gonna be okay, KB. Life doesn't give you hurdles you can't hurdle."

"My dad said near enough the same thing, day my words came in," Kris whispered.

"Then your pops must be a smart fella," Ross said, and beamed. He slapped Kris on the shoulders. "C'mon, we got some ass to whup. Hop to it, Bryant."

"Yeah," Kris said, and let Ross help him stand.

Rizzo pressed in close a few minutes later, looking ashamed with himself. "You should have told me, I wouldn't have been such a dick."

"Yeah," Kris said.

"Gotta admit, though, it would have been a hell of a story," Rizzo said. "We already have a soulmate _name._ "

Kris shot him a sad look.

"Yeah, okay, I'll cool it on the soulmate shit," Rizzo said. "I'm sorry I didn't realize it was sore territory for you."

Kris nodded mutely, as Rizzo patted him solemnly on the shoulder and wandered off. He swallowed hard.

It didn't matter if Rizzo knew or didn't. Rizzo didn't want a soulmate. Kris couldn't have his. That was all there was to it.

#

It could have been that way too, except for the heatwave, and another homer, and an ill-aimed powerade shower. Kris was nearly unaffected, except he forgot his shower shoes, and figured a ten second scurry to the locker room wouldn't get him caught out. 

He hadn't figured for the crazy fan who'd managed to get all the way past security and into the hallowed, sacred space of the Cubs' clubhouse. The fan took a photograph of Kris, wearing his body suit and clutching a towel, and security caught the fan, confiscated their camera and threw them out, but the camera must have been one of those new-fangled ones that were connected to a cloud, because the photo hit the internet almost immediately and the whole world went ballistic.

Most people decried the privacy breach, especially with something so precious as someone's _words,_ but most people also looked, and Kris found himself with his head between his knees, struggling to breathe, as millions of people looked at a zoomed-in photograph of his naked foot, and saw the end of his words.

His words. Out in public.

_Sorry. Bye. I gotta go. Maybe I'll see you around though, huh?_

Kris' eyes and throat burned. They were supposed to be his words. For his consumption alone. Sometimes he traced the line of his words on nights he couldn't sleep, to calm him down. They were his words and the world knew them. It was a violation.

The Cubs management team assured him they would be firm in their messages to the media and decry the event. They were going to tighten security. Kris could have a personal bodyguard if that would make him feel happier, but Kris rejected that, because it was just a fan with a camera. He couldn't live his life in fear just from the actions of one idiot. He felt Maddon was especially proud of him for saying that.

Kris was just about thinking he might get through this okay when the door slammed open, and Kris had to resist the urge to facepalm because of course it was Rizzo, _of course_ it was.

"Rizz, we're still finishing up here," Maddon said, cool and firm.

"Mm, you probably want to be here for this," Rizzo said. "Make sure, I don't know, that I don't fucking _kill_ him."

Maddon and his admin staff exchanged a worry glance.

"Rizzo—" Kris started, hesitantly.

"Oh, no, fuck no, you don't fucking _Rizzo_ me," Rizzo said, and walked right up to where Kris was still seated. "As soon as I saw those words I remembered, and I knew it, I fucking _knew_ you were my soulmate and you fucking _lied right to my face._ "

Kris had to resist the urge to sink into the floor and never come back up, because Maddon suddenly looked like a thousand Christmases had come at once.

"Why would you fucking _lie_ to me like that?" Rizzo yelled.

Kris stood up, unwilling to be in a passive position for this horrible — possibly the worst — moment of his life. "Because you don't _want_ a soulmate," Kris yelled, pushing right up into Rizzo's chest and glaring at him furiously. "Your parents weren't and you don't believe in it. The world finds out we're soulmates, we'll be shoved together even more than we are, and excuse me for protecting you from that. I _refuse_ to be involved in something just because I want it and you don't."

"Kris," Rizzo said.

Kris sagged. He was too tired for this. "Don't fucking _Kris_ me," he said, and turned to Maddon. "I apologize. This is unprofessional."

"It's all right by me," Maddon said, still looking gleeful. No other franchise had a pair of League-leading infielders, and no other franchise had infielders who were soulmates.

"Well, it's not all right by me," Kris said. He squared his shoulders and glared at Rizzo. "You don't want a soulmate, and that's what is fine. Because I sure as hell don't want _you_ as my soulmate. So everything's pretty clear on that front."

Rizzo looked like he was going to fight, but the fight faded from his face and he nodded, his face taut with an expression Kris couldn't parse. "Fine," Rizzo acquiesced with a short jerking nod. "Whatever the fuck you want."

Not being Rizzo's soulmate was exactly the opposite of what Kris wanted, but that was his life now, and it was something Kris was going to have to learn to deal with.

#

Kris thought that would be it, the soul words photo dying out of the news in favor of reports of their continuing streak, and of Rizzo and Kris continuing to edge each other out for MVP.

But much like his entire life, Kris hadn't figured for Anthony Rizzo.

A journalist brought up the topic of soulmates in a post-game interview, probably hoping for some fresh material on the photograph scandal. The interview was playing on the screens inside the locker room, and Kris watched as intently as he did everything that had Rizzo's face on it, up to and including cereal boxes.

"I've been vocal about soulmates in the past," Rizzo said. "But I've not been entirely honest, I guess."

Kris froze in fear. Was Rizzo going to mention him again?

"I have really bland soul words," Rizzo said. "The whole team mocks me about them, actually, because _hi, it's nice to meet you?_ How cracker boring can you get."

Kris felt like he couldn't breathe. You only shared your words with the public at large when you were sure you'd met your soulmate, and even then, it was rare for someone to be that explicit.

"I used to be really down on soulmates," Rizzo said. "But that was just because I knew how unlikely it was to find my soulmate with words like that. So I told myself, night after night, that I didn't even _want_ it. And I mean, the idea of fate also kind of sucks because I work with all these amazing kids with cancer and if fate exists, why are all these kids dying, so fate, no, not a big fan. But soulmates — the _chance_ of soulmates — that's a beautiful but rare thing, and I'm sorry for the bad things I've said about it."

"That sounds like you've actually _met_ your soulmate," the reporter says, eyes lit up with glee.

"Yeah," Rizzo said, and he shrugged. "He doesn't want anything to do with me, but that's okay. He's my soulmate. I want what he wants. If he wants me to not be beside him, that's what I'm going to do."

" _He?_ " the reporter repeated, but Rizzo shrugged again and wandered off, away from the camera.

The reporter turned to fill the screen, jabbering excitedly about it, and already making a leap in her outro about, "Rizzo finding his soulmate in the same time period as teammate Bryant's word leak, you can't help but wonder if the events are connected."

Kris buried himself in his locker, hands trembling, and he had to fight to resist the urge to turn around when Rizzo came into the locker room. There was a massive cheer.

"I always knew you had feelings," Baez yelled, pretending to wipe away tears.

"Can't believe you fucking found them," Szczur said, clapping him on his back.

"Yeah," Rizzo said, faintly.

"You'll woo your soulmate until he's into you," Ross offered. "Pretty sure you're irresistible."

"Aw, Grandpa, I love you too," Rizzo said, "but I'm too scared of Hyla to give in to our undeniable animal chemistry."

"As well you should be," Ross sniffed.

Rizzo didn't say anything to Kris as he came over to his locker, just started hanging up his clothes, leaving Kris standing there feeling acutely self-conscious. Rizzo did edge a glance at him, and Kris' throat felt dry.

"I, um," Kris said, and lowered his voice even more to more coherently add, "I saw your interview. We, obviously, we all did."

"Yeah?" Rizzo said, not looking at Kris, folding his shirts even though he normally hung them up to avoid creasing them. "Any, uh, interesting insights?"

Kris felt his cheeks heat. "Um. Only that, um, if your soulmate, uh, gave you the impression he didn't want you, then, um, maybe it was because he thought that's what you wanted."

"Interesting theory," Rizzo said, with a forced lightness. "Any idea what my soulmate might actually want?"

"You," Kris said. "Probably. Um, for forever. That's probably a thing he's been wanting for a long time."

"That's a fun crazy happenstance," Rizzo said. "Especially as that's what I want with my soulmate too. Have done for a long time, I think. Probably since this season's Spring Training."

"But that—" Kris' mouth worked silently for a moment, and then he gave up the casual pretense of the moment and turned to Rizzo. "But that was before you even _knew_ or suspected that I was your soulmate?"

"Yeah, funny story," Rizzo said. "I kept saying I wanted to find someone to love who wasn't my soulmate, and I started to think I'd found him, but he was obviously into finding his soulmate. Kept his words covered faithfully, and always reacted whenever anyone mentioned soulmates with a fond expression. So I stayed quiet. Then the universe had to make the joke on me, because turns out this guy I fell for _was_ my soulmate."

"But you never said," Kris said, mouth hanging open as he stared at Rizzo, quite unable to stop. Rizzo was looking back at him, with the fondest expression Kris had ever seen from him.

"Mm, ignoring the hypocrisy there," Rizzo said, "I kind of wussed out. When I propositioned you. I was gonna tell you then, but I panicked. I didn't want you to tell me that you were waiting on your soulmate. So I threw out the best lie I could come up with in the heat of the moment — you are a _very_ distracting person, Kris Bryant — and then it backfired tremendously, which I told myself is what I deserved. So." He looked down at his feet for a moment and shuffled on the tiles. "Anyway, yeah."

"I was only ever pissed off at you because all I wanted was my soulmate to love me," Kris said, frowning sadly. "I thought you didn't want me."

"Yeah," Rizzo said, staring at Kris' mouth, "yeah, that was stupid. I want you _forever_ , in any way you'll let me have you. I'm, uh, kind of crazy about you, if you hadn't noticed."

"I hadn't," Kris said. "But I'm beginning to see, which I think is the important part."

"Yeah, I think so too," Rizzo said and smiled, wider than when they were winning, and Kris' heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.

#

They tried to keep it secret, but that lasted about two days. Kris felt like it was torture to stop kissing Rizzo, and apparently Rizzo felt the same, dragging Kris into the less-used video room four for some post-game making out. Sadly, due to some monitors in room one not working right, and some of the Cubs being diligent for the last few series to come, meant that nearly half the team ended up walking in on the two of them using one of the wheeled chairs "inappropriately".

After that, it felt churlish to keep hiding their happiness, and it was partway into their last home set of matches against the Reds that Kris felt comfortable enough with things to not wear his bodysuit under his uniform any more. His words would still remain hidden by his uniform, but he didn't need to hide them in the locker room.

Even though Rizzo had seen him naked enough times now for it to be a common sight for him, Rizzo still whistled when Kris shucked off his shirt in the locker room to reveal naked skin, and he made Kris rest on his locker slightly, just enough for Rizzo to press his hands against Kris' back, framing a bunch of the words there with his fingers and thumbs.

"Woah," Rizzo said, loud enough to get everyone's attention, and sure enough, the Cubs in the locker room all wandered over to take a peek at Kris' copious soul words. "Is there anywhere my words _didn't_ go?"

"My ass," Kris gritted out, "and you're fucking lucky about that."

"Mm, I feel pretty lucky when it comes to your ass," Rizzo said, beaming and slapping it in punctuation.

"You're also lucky I love you," Kris said.

Rizzo beamed wider. "I know," he said. "I love you too, babe."

Kris flushed. He wasn't sure he should like being called babe so much, but Rizzo was ridiculous. Kris shouldn't encourage that but he kind of loved it.

"So just to get things straight," Ross said, coming over to Kris and gesturing at the words and then at Rizzo, "which is apparently kind of the wrong word, but moving on — when you said your soulbond was _dysfunctional_ —?"

"Dude, he soul bonded to me," Rizzo said. "Is there anyone who's gonna say this shit is _functional_?"

"When my words came in I nearly died," Kris offered.

Rizzo stared at him in horror.

"I may have missed that out when I told you the story before," Kris said, wincing. "Sorry. My bad."

Rizzo continued to stare in horror.

"Yeah, okay," Ross said. "Your soulbond is horrifically dysfunctional. Congratulations."

Rizzo's horror eventually eased, and he shuffled in closer, mouth drifting to a curve of words that curled over Kris' shoulder. "You know, I should check your ass thoroughly later," Rizzo said, in a faux-casual tone. "Just in case some words are lurking there."

Kris hummed under his breath. "It is important to be thorough," he agreed, and felt his heart soar when his soulmate smiled back at him.


End file.
